


two

by harinezumi_kun



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: M/M, Romance, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 20:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harinezumi_kun/pseuds/harinezumi_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>even just a little longer, don’t say anything, just follow me.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	two

**Author's Note:**

> another belated repost from LJ. some songfic for Ohno's _Popcorn_ solo.

01.

they’re in the car, Ohno and Nino in the very back and Aiba in the middle row of seats, twisted around so he can gesticulate at them properly while he talks. Ohno doesn’t pay Aiba much attention, instead watching the streetlights rush over Nino’s face, light and dark, constant shifting grades of relief. There’s a little smile lurking at the corners of Nino’s mouth, like always, and Nino’s hand is resting loosely on his knee.

Ohno wants to touch him, to reach out and take Nino’s hand, but it wouldn’t mean anything, here, with people around. He wants Nino alone, wants Nino all to himself.

And so, maybe, tonight—

08.

they’re sitting together at the kotatsu, leaning together shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. It’s just like before, but so different now. Ohno’s legs sting from the heat under the table, but the rest of him comes up in goose bumps from the cold in the room.

“You shouldn’t go,” Ohno says, softly, mostly joking because he knows it’s impossible. “Just stay here. We’ll just stay here, forever.”

Ohno expects Nino to scoff, to say something sarcastic, but instead he just chuckles and says. “Okay.”

03.

“Have you really thought this through?” Nino asks when they reach Ohno’s door. “I mean, have you really thought about it?”

“Have I thought about it,” Ohno repeats, turns to look at Nino with a laugh that is little more than a breath through his nose, that pulls up just one corner of Ohno’s mouth.

Every day, every time he looks at Nino, for all those countless moments, for years, it’s been all he can think about. Ohno wonders when it was that Nino became the most fascinating thing to him, can’t remember a time when Nino didn’t fascinate him, at least a little bit.

But Ohno just says, “Yeah.”

05.

Nino takes a step back, so he can lean against the wall. Ohno follows him, steps in close. Ohno’s right hand reaches for Nino’s left, and they meet in the middle. Ohno’s other hand goes to Nino’s hip—which isn’t especially new, it isn’t like he’s never been this close to Nino before, but there’s so much more intent this time—and Nino’s other hand comes up to pluck at Ohno’s shirt.

“It’s only the first time—” Ohno begins.

“What if it’s the last time, too?” Nino counters.

Ohno feels a lump rise in his throat, but he swallows it down. “Even if,” he agrees. “I have to do this.”

“No, you don’t,” Nino says. He smiles when he says it, like it’s a joke, or like he’s smiling because it’s actually sad.

04.

even though Nino has made it clear that he doesn’t want to be here, that he thinks this is a bad idea, he still crowds up against Ohno’s back, stands so close he is breathing down Ohno’s neck while Ohno fumbles for his keys. 

Ohno opens the door, goes in first, knows Nino will be right behind him. Ohno flicks the light on as he toes off his shoes, but Nino flicks it back off a moment later without a word. 

Ohno loves this contrariness, loves it even as it drives him crazy. He wants to say it, he wants to tell Nino, over and over again “I love you, I love you”. He can’t right now, not yet, but he can feel the words forming a tight knot in his chest, like he’s holding down a scream, or a sob, or hysterical laughter.

07.

fascinated, Ohno is still fascinated by the play of light across Nino’s face. He pretends it’s moonlight, even though that’s impossible, here, in the city, though Ohno’s bedroom window. The light smoothes Nino’s skin, bleaches it to a porcelain white, but Nino’s eyes are alive and nervous in the doll-like face. He doesn’t say a word. 

“I love you,” Ohno says, lips barely moving.

Nino’s eyes shut, briefly, irritated. “Don’t say that, don’t say it now. It doesn’t mean anything, after sex.”

Ohno breathes out, sleepy, and rustles the sheets as he pulls Nino closer, presses their foreheads together, invading, smothering. “Why not? I’ve said it before, other times. Lots of times. Did those mean something?”

Nino still looks annoyed, like he wants to push Ohno away, but he doesn’t. He addresses Ohno’s questions in turn: “Because, it just doesn’t. And I know, I remember. And I don’t know: did they?”

“I love you,” Ohno says again, smiling when Nino scowls.

06.

and suddenly, Ohno feels angry. He’s so angry at Nino for always doing that: acting like he already knows all the answers, how it’s all going to turn out, even if he doesn’t. Ohno knows Nino does this because he wants to at least feel like he’s in control of the situation, but right now, right here, Ohno doesn’t want Nino to be in control.

So he does the first thing he thinks of, the only thing he _can_ do: Ohno kisses him.

It’s that sense of intent—the kiss is just a press of lips, but it’s harder, more insistent than the other times they’ve done it. Nino sucks in a startled breath through his nose, and his hand around Ohno’s tightens, his hand in Ohno’s shirt clenches. Ohno pulls away, scared already that he’s gone too far, but still trembling with how badly he wants this, wants Nino.

Nino’s eyes are squeezed shut. His hand moves up from Ohno’s chest to his shoulder, and: _This is it_ , Ohno thinks. This is where Nino will push him away. But instead, Nino’s hand curls over Ohno’s shoulder, slides up again to Ohno’s neck and around to the back, and instead of a push, it is a _pull_.

Their lips meet again, and this time it is fierce: Nino kisses him with no waiting, like he’s been waiting too long, and his tongue is already in Ohno’s mouth, his fingers already curling painfully in Ohno’s hair. They kiss until Ohno feels dizzy, they kiss again and again and again.

When they finally pause, it is only to move closer—Nino pulls Ohno flush against his chest, hides his face in Ohno’s neck. Ohno winds his own arms tight around Nino, and finds himself murmuring Nino’s name, over and over again, as if saying it will make this real, will keep Nino here.

“I know,” Nino says, voice raw. “I know, I’m sorry, I—it’s me, too, but—”

“Don’t,” Ohno whispers, says again: “Don’t say anything. You don’t need to say anything.”

“But it will be so much harder,” Nino says anyway. “Knowing is so much harder.”

Ohno could argue with him, wants to tell him: _No, this is better, this is so, so much better_. Instead he kisses Nino again. 

02.

Ohno’s hand closes around Nino’s wrist as the car slows in front of Ohno’s apartment.

“Don’t say anything,” Ohno says, barely audible. “Just. Come with me.”

Nino stares at him for a long moment. He doesn’t say anything, just like Ohno asked, and Ohno can still hear everything Nino’s not saying over the other sounds around them: the car’s motor running, the radio playing a sad song, the driver coughing politely when the pause drags on too long.

“I’m getting out here, too,” Nino tells the driver, already sliding across the seat, making the leather squeak. 

“Yes, sir,” the driver replies quietly.


End file.
